


Helping Hand

by xhuth



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, cock inspection day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xhuth/pseuds/xhuth
Summary: Hinata does everything around here. Handyman, tailor, tech support, physical therapy. What's one more thing?
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 2
Kudos: 153





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> hello its me again! back with more komahina. ive been sitting on this one for a few months stuck in proofreading and titling. i was just gonna title it some lyrics bullshit but then i was suggested this title by a friend and now here we are.

“Ha-ah.”

The island was always in need of repairs. Just when they had fixed something, another thing would finally give out. It was definitely enough to keep the former Remnants busy. Hinata wondered if this was the original plan for the Neo World Program—he guessed it would have qualified as penal labor. They had been working on the old building: wood rotting at the foundation, broken appliances from an age long since past, enough dust to induce asthma in a healthy individual—if they had the proper machinery on the island, it would have been best to just take the whole building down at this point.

But they didn’t, so piecemeal repairs were the best thing they could do. Hinata had been carrying some of the old wood to the green area behind the hotel. Most of them were still at work. He didn’t expect to find anyone at the designated dumping area, realizing someone was in his trajectory just in time to stop without crashing into the person ahead. Regardless, it was too late for them—upon hearing Hinata’s stumble, the figure lost in thought had startled, losing balance and tripping and landing hard, directly into some prickly shrubbery. Hinata winced.

“Hinata-kun!” Komaeda said as gracefully as one could while trying to find purchase out of the bush. “Glad to see you. Ah, my apologies—”

“Sorry. Give me a second.” Hinata tossed the rotten materials into the rubbish pile and brushed his dirty hands on his jeans, outstretching a hand to Komaeda.

He tried to help him up, but it was no use—Komaeda was caught on the brambles. Komaeda fell right back on his ass.

“Hah… such bad luck. Don’t worry about me, Hinata-kun. I’m sure the others are more in need of your strength.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “Take off your coat.” Komaeda said nothing as he struggled out of his sleeves, and Hinata reached again for Komaeda’s arm with both hands, hoisting him out of his ensnarement.

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said, rubbing his arm, right above the prosthetic. “...Ah, my parka...”

His coat was sadly left tangled in the briar, having almost certainly endured several tears. Hinata crouches and reaches for the garment, and Komaeda clearly had the same idea at the same time, resulting in their arms brushing. Hinata quickly retracted his own as if he had just been burned. “S-sorry.”

This was almost a game between them now. The fleeting contact, the accidental touches. The Ultimate Hope would catch his breath in surprise and make the correction, wiping his hands on his jeans again as if they were still covered in dirt and not sweat, while the Ultimate Luck…

“Haha… sorry again.” Something about Komaeda’s ineptitude. A smile. “...say, you’re looking pretty red, Hinata-kun. Have you been working too hard?” And he already knows the answer to that question: _too much, never enough_. But when it came to Komaeda, he couldn’t respond. Hinata knows many things, but he doesn’t know how Komaeda has this power over him like no one else, he thinks, as the gentle warmth permeates across his face.

Hinata looked up briefly to catch a brief moment of vulnerability: Komaeda wincing and trying to open and close his prosthetic with difficulty. He decides to save his comment, something like ‘ _well Komaeda have you been falling on your ass too hard’_ , or something else really smart, as his analytics kick in.

“One of the metacarpal mechanisms was damaged,” he determines, reaching out for Komaeda’s prosthetic hand as if he hadn’t just flinched from his touch a second ago. “I’ll have to fix it.”

Komaeda simply sat as Hinata gingerly examined his artificial limb, flipping it over and manually bending the fingers, running his mental diagnostics in his sublime brain. He was silent as he did, until the Hinata side of his brain realized perhaps the social unacceptability of a silence this long. He looked back up at Komaeda, equally as silent, observing him. Komaeda met his eyes.

“...You’re pretty fucked up. Uh, from the fall. You should probably, uh, go clean up.”

Komaeda had the beginnings of an incredulous expression on his face. “Hardly one to talk, Hinata-kun—” he says as he pinches Hinata’s shirt smudged with the various kinds of materials he was working with. “Wearing a white shirt to dirty work… I would think you would know better,” he smirked. Hinata scoffs.

“Give me this for a while. I’ll do some repairs.” He gestures for Komaeda to remove the prosthesis, to which he complies. Hinata stands up with the robotic attachment in one hand, pulling Komaeda by his real arm back to his feet with the other.

“Don’t they need you in the old building?”

“They’ve got it under control,” says Hinata. “Go wash off. I’ll come over when it’s fixed.” Hinata looks toward the abandoned jacket on the shrub and swifty grabs it. “...This too.”

“Ah, Hinata-kun is too kind, even when a useless insect like myself ruins what he worked so hard to build…”

“Come on. You didn’t ruin it.” He’s not sure why he’s even humoring his shit. He begins walking to his cabin. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

* * *

It was a simple repair; some components had been knocked out of place from impact. He re-oiled some of the mechanisms while he was at it, and buffed the scratches on the hand’s casing. The jacket had quite a few snags, nothing too grievous. He hardly had experience sewing and mending, but it was nothing outside of his vast skill set. He could feel that the presence in the back of his mind was disappointed in the mundanity of the tasks. He didn’t hear it much these days, with the constant work keeping him busy and his mind occupied, but in the silence of his room, the boredom creeped along the edges of his psyche. Hinata shook his head as if to dispel the thoughts and refocuses.

...He figured he should follow Komaeda’s advice as well, indirect as it were. No need to elicit more comments from him, Hinata thinks. He shucks off his dirty shirt and pants, kicking off his socks and then his boxers as he begins to draw a shower.

The cabins were the most modernized facilities on the island, considerably. The Future Foundation must have lodged in them during the events that transpired in the Neo World Program. With clean, running water on demand, the cabins were definitely among the most luxurious spaces remaining on Jabberwock. Hinata didn’t get to spend much time in his, besides to sleep. And he wasn’t getting too much of that either. Placing his hands on the wall of the shower, his back to the flow of water, he exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He recalls an exercise he learned, once; he scrunches up his muscles as tightly as he could, holds, then releases, relaxing the tension he had been holding. This was the first time in a while he had some time to himself like this. Closing his eyes, he turns to face the water.

As dark tendrils threaten to lap at the corners of his mind, he begins recalling his day so far. Work. Work. Work. Then…

He sees the white of Komaeda’s hair catching the light and shining in his memory. And he recalls the fall, and the brushing of their hands, and his own embarrassment. What the hell, is he a kid or something? He felt his face getting warm again, and the tiniest squeeze in his chest. He’s not the child that signed up for the Project anymore. That one’s gone. He’s an adult with skills far surpassing any other unaltered adult. Useless information overflowing constantly, boredom plaguing his every move.

...But he’s not quite him, either. On the opposite end he sees that hope for the future, the one that lead them out of that program. Would that one feel like this?

Feeling powerless at the hands of someone far beneath his capabilities. Of course he treated Komaeda as an equal—Komaeda _is_ an equal, he sternly reminds himself. But at the same time, he’s unequal to anyone else.

Feelings he thought had been carved out of him with unrivaled precision long ago. He supposes it makes sense; he’s not one or the other, he’s both. While what was done cannot be undone, the before and after still hold it, each one hand…

_Okay, snap out of it,_ Hinata internally scolded himself. _I’m not spending my unplanned moment of respite postulating on the nature of my existence._ He lightly smacked his face with his hands, and was reminded of the residual warmth from not too long ago.

He turned the shower knob to ‘cold’.

* * *

  
  


After showering, Hinata put on a change of new clothes. He neatly folded the mended jacket and hung it on his arm, and held the repaired prosthetic unceremoniously in his right hand as we would any other object, and exited his cabin.

Saionji was sitting on the edge of the cabins’ boardwalk, her legs dangling over the water. It wasn’t uncommon for her to skip out on whatever they were working on for the day, but Hinata could hardly judge today when he had left his post without alerting the others.

“Big Bro Hinata!” she called out. “I heard everyone was wondering where you went so suddenly. Skipping work to dick around? Hehe.”

“No, I—”

“Oooooh, I see! Your boyfriend left his stuff at your cabin, huh? And now you’re returning it!”

“Ugh, no, Komaeda—”

“Can’t believe Big Bro Hinata is messing around with that pervert! Hehehe! Or, actually I can, really.”

Hinata groans at Saionji’s teasing. It doesn’t really bother him anymore, that’s just how she is. He already knows what to expect mostly from all of them, really. He humors it anyway, for her sake.

He pinches his brow. “No—yes, I’m returning Komaeda’s stuff. He fell into a bush.”

“Wowwww!” She pushes herself back and stands up, facing Hinata, innocently holding her hands behind her back. “How sweet! Ugh, you make me want to retch, and I really like sweet things!”

“Sure, Saionji.”

“Awww, Big Bro is bored of me!” She giggles, and takes a step closer. Her expression changes slightly. “All that room in your big ol’ brain and you can’t do the math. Figure it out!” She reaches up, bridging the shrunken gap in their heights now to lightly flick Hinata’s head, and walks off laughing. She’s grown in a lot of ways, but not others. Hinata grumbles and turns back toward the short walk to Komaeda’s cabin.

* * *

He taps his knuckles on his door twice. “Komaeda,” he calls, not waiting for a response when he turns the knob, already knowing it’ll be unlocked. It usually is. “I’m coming in.”

He doesn’t see Komaeda immediately.

“Ah, one second, Hinata-kun—” he hears, as Komaeda exits the bathroom, toweling his hair. He’s in a clean white shirt and his sleep shorts. “I see you’ve invited yourself in already. Make yourself comfortable, ah, I apologize for the mess—” he says, looking to the few articles of unfolded clothing on the couch, “it’s harder to do the laundry with only the one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He places the jacket on the bed, and approaches Komaeda with the robotic hand. “I, uh, tuned it up a bit.”

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” he says with a smile, “it’s alright, you can just put it on the table for now,” gesturing with his stump.

Hinata sets the prosthetic on the table, scanning the room. Komaeda’s laundry is still on the couch, so he goes to sit on the bed while Komaeda finishes up in the bathroom.

When he re-emerges, he’s still in his sleep shorts. Komaeda’s pretty shameless, that comes as no surprise.

“Sorry for my state of undress,” he laughs, pensively rubbing the back of his head. “Those were my last pair of clean pants today, and well…”

Hinata shrugs. “It’s no problem. It’s your cabin, after all.”

“Ha, I suppose. Hinata-kun’s visit could warrant something a little nicer, though.”

“Mm.”

Komaeda walks to the table and picks up his artificial hand, examining it. “Superb work as always from Hinata-kun. As expected of the Ultimate Hope.” Komaeda donned the arm, turning it over in his view.

“I’ll need to, uh, run some tests to make sure it works. I mean, I did, but, on you, to, calibrate…”

“Of course, Hinata-kun.”

“So, um, if you pull up that chair—” Hinata began, but before he could finish, he felt the mattress give under the weight of Komaeda sitting beside him. _Or, yeah, I guess that’s okay too,_ he might have said quietly aloud to himself. Komaeda offers his arm toward him.

“Alright, so,” Hinata says, rubbing his own wrist, “we’re going to do some testing of the, uh, median ulnar and radial nerve functionality.” He inadvertently opens and closes his own hand to demonstrate.

“Tell me what you need me to do, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda replies, shifting his position on the bed to better face him.

Hinata gulps. This is just like earlier. Except it’s a bit past their little game; this is far… closer. _It’s only weird if you make it weird,_ he internally scolds once more.

“...So, just some simple wrist rotations to begin,” Hinata continues, once again extending his arm for Komaeda to mimic.

“Like this?”

“Keep your arm straighter,” he corrects, and he goes to adjust Komaeda’s arm accordingly without thinking.

This time it was Komaeda who jumped, so slightly that it almost went unnoticed, at the touch. Was he not expecting to be touched? It didn’t occur to Hinata that it might be inappropriate. Stupid. _No, I’m calibrating his hand, I have to touch him…_

Either way, it went otherwise unacknowledged by Komaeda, who proceeded to straighten his arm and rotate his mechanical wrist.

“...Hinata-kun? Is this correct?” Komaeda inquires, pulling Hinata out of his trance.

“Y-yeah.” He leans to look closer at the hand. “Seems to be no issue.”

“Wonderful,” Komaeda smiles, rubbing at his own leg with his other hand.

* * *

“You were already doing this before, but try expressing your hand.”

Komaeda unfolds his fingers slowly, and curls them back in again. He repeats this a few more times, until Hinata says, “Wait.”

Hinata again reaches for the hand—solely the artificial part this time, and not the skin of Komaeda’s arm—and begins manually moving his fingers. The prosthetic’s fingers. Not quite Komaeda’s.

“It’s a little stiff,” Hinata comments. “Did you feel any issue?”

Komaeda takes a second to answer, “Not really. It’s alright.”

“Well, I want to make sure it functions at full capacity, otherwise it’s pointless.” He looks down again at the hand resting on Komaeda’s folded legs, and presses his thumb at the palm. _...Komaeda’s sleep shorts are… pretty short. Wait, what the hell? Don’t get distracted._

“Do you feel any pressure?”

“Y...yes,” he seems to almost... stammer? This is really unlike him. “It’s faint, but I can feel it.” Hinata presses his thumb again on the other areas of the palm. “And this?” he asks, looking back up.

It’s slight, but Komaeda’s face has the slightest bit of color, a smidge deeper than his usual pale, cool complexion. “Ah… the same,” he reports, lifting his head back up to meet Hinata’s eyes for a second, and then averting his gaze. _Did I make it weird?_ Hinata wonders. He’s just doing regular diagnostics. But Komaeda’s being weird; different weird. Maybe Hinata’s being weird.

“Are you feeling any pain?” he asks.

“Ah… not any more than usual. It’s not really a problem.”

Knowing Komaeda’s tendency to play things down, Hinata surmises, _yes, he’s probably in pain._ Pain was typical with amputees, of course. _That’s probably why he’s acting like this, then._

“Alright, only a few things left to do. And then I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

“Of course, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata looks back down at the hand and it’s only then he realizes that _fuck, he’s been holding the hand in his own two this whole time._ He pulls away and mouths ‘sorry’ as Komaeda casually retracts his arm and rests it back on his leg.

* * *

“Uhm. So,” Hinata coughs, “I want you to try making some gestures.”

Komaeda smiles. Or, smirks, more like. “What kind of gestures would Hinata-kun have me make, I wonder?”

“Ugh,” he groans. “I dunno. It doesn’t matter.”

Komaeda gets up off the bed and stands in front of Hinata, making some basic hand signs: circle, V sign… To be truthful, Hinata’s not paying much attention. Komaeda’s, uh, shorts had ridden up slightly from his movement, and…

“Hinata-kun?”

Hinata tried his best to not look like he had been roused from zoning out completely; he’s not sure how effective it ended up being. When he turned his eyes back to Komaeda’s face and hand, he was greeted with Komaeda’s middle digit risen at him and a coy smile on his face.

“H-hey!” Hinata sputtered. “I didn’t mean that!”

Komaeda lets out a small laugh as Hinata pouts. This one sounded different than the usual sheepish laugh he peppers into his speech…more genuine. 

“And after the trouble I went through making the gesture for you… I’m only doing as Hinata-kun asked.”

He supposes this is what he meant by no one else but Komaeda getting him like this. As Hinata smoulders and Komaeda attempts to defuse, he notices: he’s not bored.

“Oi. Quit that. Get over here.”

Komaeda comes back over and sits on the bed next to Hinata, who becomes woefully aware of their proximity when the cool skin of Komaeda’s arm brushes up against Hinata’s own, still flushed after Komaeda’s jests. Hinata punches his shoulder playfully—no, not playfully, this is serious work. Komaeda was being a little asshole. Komaeda rubs the shoulder, going ‘oww’.

“W-what, did that hurt?”

“Hm, a bit. I suppose I deserve it for being so rude.”

“Hm-m. Yeah, you do.” Hinata gives a little smile, to which the other returns, while quickly averting his gaze.

* * *

"Just some final tests…” Hinata says, adjusting his position, bringing up his leg to rest on the mattress and face Komaeda. “I, uh, need to touch your hand. If that’s okay,” he continues, as if he hadn’t already been doing exactly that earlier.

“Of course, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda adjusts himself as well to face Hinata in turn, bringing both his legs up onto the bed to sit in a seiza-style kneeling position, resting his hands on his legs. Hinata notices he doesn’t offer his arm this time.

“Uh,” he tentatively reaches for Komaeda’s wrist and hesitates before grabbing it. Komaeda apparently picks up on this and lifts his wrist limply, slightly. Hinata grabs it from the underside, muttering _‘y-yeah’_ under his breath. He flips the arm palm-side up.

“We’re gonna test your feeling—sense of touch.” Hinata is looking deeply at the prosthetic.

His work. _Hardly a perfect creation,_ he hears in his mind, gazing upon the small mechanisms that remain exposed when the casing is closed. He fleets his eyes to his own palm; bone, muscle, tendon, and skin. Little creases and lines only visible when you look closely—the individual and unique patterns of his palm, his fingerprints. _A perfect hand,_ he hears the voice continue, _in the absolute imperfection of humanity._ Can a perfect hand make an imperfect creation? Hinata banishes the train of thought before it can make it any further.

He drags his fingers, beginning at the palm, along the mechanical hand, upward, just past where the casing meets the skin of Komaeda’s arm. He waits a moment, and repeats the motion. He looks back up. Komaeda is still looking down where Hinata is holding his arm.

“Komaeda?”

It takes him a second to go, “Ah! Um.”

“Did you feel any sensation?” Hinata asks. “Not that, uh, you can feel with it, of course... I mean—”

“Hmm, I could feel a little. I could tell something was there.”

“G-good… good.” Hinata gingerly flipped the arm over again. “I’m gonna try a few more things, okay? Let me know if you feel any pain.”

“Okay,” Komaeda said, sounding a little breathless.

As Hinata did more exercises on Komaeda’s arm, Komaeda said nothing. Hinata would occasionally look upwards, subtly, to see Komaeda leaning forward, looking down, fixated on Hinata’s work. As he traced his fingers along the edge of the prosthesis one more, he noticed the minor twitch as he made contact with the skin again. He saw the little bumps on Komaeda’s pale skin, his light hairs on end. It was then he became acutely aware of the silence in the room—except, upon listening closer, he could hear Komaeda’s breathing. Mathematical graphs appeared in Hinata’s mind, mapping the frequencies of the human respiratory system, the inhale and exhale. He looked up at Komaeda’s face again, noticing his deepened complexion. He lingered, until Komaeda coughed.

“I th-think everything’s in order, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda exhaled, with a hint of desperation. “It’s...it’s fine.”

He looked back down at the hand, trembling ever so slightly in his loose grip. Then, the realization hit him: _fuck, this is really intimate!_ He follows the trajectory of Komaeda’s arm from his perspective, up, past his legs, and… uh… oh.

Komaeda’s sleep shorts are looking a little tight. Okay, they’re straining.

Hinata dry swallows and opens his hand to allow Komaeda to retract his arm. He does, with urgency, resting it again beside his other hand over his shorts.

“Uh,” Hinata hesitates, “y-yeah. Sorry.”

Komaeda averts his eyes from Hinata’s. The underside of his neck is shiny from sweat. “Haha… no worries. Hinata-kun.” He coughs again. “E-everything feels like it usually does, so,” he gulps, “excellent work, as always, H-hinata-kun. Thank you.” He turns his head to try to meet Hinata’s gaze, but it’s affixed on his hands, still. “Hinata-kun!” he adjures, snapping him out of his daze.

“Komaeda…”

“Of course, Hinata-kun is welcome anytime, but, I, aha, have to finish my laundry. It’s a mess in here. Now that I have the hand back, and, ah, you’re probably sick of touching a being as worthless as myself—”

“Komaeda.” Hinata is feeling… uncharacteristically calm right now. But, it’s not like his usual calmness… perhaps something closer to that _‘Ultimate Serenity’_ Komaeda mentioned when they first “met”. Something else.

Komaeda is biting his lip between slips of _‘um’_ s and _‘ah’_ s, his eyes darting around, between meeting Hinata’s gaze and looking around the room. Hinata takes a breath; he grasps Komaeda’s left wrist in one hand and places it on the bed, and rests his other hand on Komaeda’s right shoulder. He leans forward, and meets his lips to Komaeda’s, feeling his slight jump at the initial contact, then his relaxation as he, too, leans back into the kiss.

It’s chaste, but they continue for a few seconds; it’s when Hinata’s tongue prods that Komaeda pulls away. “Hinata-kun…”

_Shit._ What was he thinking? “Fuck, I’m sorry, I—”

Before Hinata can get any further, Komaeda uses his real hand to place one of Hinata’s on his artificial one. “Can you help me take it off?” he inquires, gently.

“Oh, uh… yeah.” Hinata brings his other hand to the prosthetic to disengage it from Komaeda’s arm, while Komaeda lightly draws his other hand along Hinata’s jaw. Hinata wraps his fingers around the dual parts of the limb, separating the two. He sets the robotic hand aside, out of sight, as he looks on at the remainder of Komaeda’s forearm.

It’s skinny, misshapen, with ragged scars at the end. When Komaeda had finally agreed to remove _her_ hand, they had done their best to protect what remained. Necrotic tissue, jagged sawn bone, wretched stitches. It must have been excruciating—but, Hinata doubts that had meant anything to Komaeda at the time. They had spoken on it before—several times, as Hinata (or rather, the other him)—remembers. But that didn’t matter, because right now this is Komaeda. Just Komaeda. The only one who seems to always transcend Hinata’s expectations. The one who makes him feel the ways he does. The one he doesn’t think he’ll ever understand, for just when he thinks he does, his hypotheses are countered. He can always rely to never truly understand, perhaps.

He kisses the arm, bringing it to his cheek and making eye contact with Komaeda. Komaeda doesn’t contradict him this time—the both of them are warm; warm, living endotherms. His pupils are already blown out, his mouth moving wordlessly as Hinata caresses his limb. Taking Hinata’s head between his hand and stump, he leans in to resume their kiss. As if to pick up where they left off, Komaeda opens his mouth right away, inviting Hinata. He takes his time feeling the outside of Komaeda’s mouth, eliciting a needy whine from the white-haired man. He accedes the request, proceeding and tasting Komaeda’s tongue.

Hinata feels like he should be doing something with his hands. Should he be doing something with his hands? He’s going to do something with his hands. Adjusting his position to stay balanced as he shifts his weight off his wrists, Hinata tentatively reaches to touch Komaeda’s hips, up to his sides. He must have liked that, because he felt the reverberation of a groan in his mouth. Hinata squeezes, weaning Komaeda off the kiss. Komaeda whines again, a small _‘Hinata-kun’_ whispered under his breath.

“Mmh.” Hinata swings his legs to hang over the edge of the bed, sitting almost upright. He pulls at Komaeda’s sides a bit with his hands, imploring the other to get closer as he breathlessly mouths _‘come here’_. Komaeda follows as Hinata leads him to shuffle on the bed, closer, until Komaeda is hovering above Hinata’s lap, facing him, his knees at both of Hinata’s sides. Komaeda looks down at Hinata’s legs, hesitating.

“Y...you can sit,” he tells the other, and he does. The weight of Komaeda’s body on Hinata’s legs is surprisingly comfortable. It’s not that he’s lighter than expected, but something about the pressure just feels right. _I guess this is how dogs feel wearing that pressurized jacket to calm them down during thunderstorms or whatever,_ Hinata thinks. 

“Haha… sitting on Hinata-kun’s lap,” Komaeda mutters, probably more to himself than to Hinata.

Hinata begins rubbing along Komaeda’s sides again, inching up his shirt. He moves inwards as he makes his way toward Komaeda’s chest. _Hm…_ Hinata gives the sides of Komaeda’s ribs a light squeeze, making him jump slightly with a small yelp. “H-hey now—” he stammers, and Hinata travels further center, and lightly swipes his thumbs over Komaeda’s nipples.

“...A-ah!” He visibly shivers. Hinata smiles, and brings his hands back down to take hold of the hem of Komaeda’s shirt.

“Up,” he beckons, and Komaeda shakily raises his arms for Hinata to pull his shirt up over his wide shoulders, then his head, casting it aside. Komaeda makes a little noise of protest at Hinata’s messiness.

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda starts, as Hinata works his mouth along his shoulder, toward his neck. “I— _Nn_ —know what you’re trying to, hah, do, but—” Hinata nibbles at the junction by his clavicle, drawing out another moan in that voice of his. Komaeda struggles to continue. “...The problem is, uh, a little—lower.”

Incredible. Komaeda is falling apart at the seams and he still has it in him to tell Hinata to hurry up. He lifts his head from the spot he’s suckling on the other man’s neck.

“Relax, Komaeda. I’m getting there.” Something felt especially intimate about pronouncing Komaeda’s name just now, even though Hinata used it all the time. It wasn’t even his given name, but Hinata felt his heart swell at his own articulation of it all the same. He resumes his work on the neck, sucking at that spot once more, and following it with kitten licks from there up toward his jaw, as Komaeda rocks back and forth on his lap, still offering his neck to Hinata.

“Hi-hinata-kun—” he gives a small bite at the utterance of _his_ name, “...I, ah, need you.”

“Hmm.” He can feel the tip of Komaeda’s erection under his loose shorts poking his stomach whenever he leans closer. 

“Don’t—puh, please don’t make me— _ohh_ —beg...”

“I dunno. I kinda like hearing your voice right now.”

“Mmnh, you know how pathetic I am,” he wheezes, “I-I’ll come before you can make it.”

Hinata is briefly caught off-guard, blushing when Komaeda says ‘come’, brazenly confirming _out loud_ just _exactly_ what it is they’re doing. His inner voice of logic kicks him with the fact that _they were literally just sucking face, and he can straight up feel Komaeda’s boner against his body._

_But he didn’t have to, like,_ say _it…_

He receives one more kick telling him to focus.

Planting one more gentle kiss on his jawline, Hinata pulls his mouth away, taking a good look at Komaeda. He was telling the truth—he looks ready to burst. “Not yet,” Hinata ushers, dragging his fingers down Komaeda’s back so slightly, barely touching the skin, just skimming the fuzzy little body hairs. He leans back to look at Komaeda’s face once more as Hinata hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both his sleep shorts and boxers. Before he can even ask, Komaeda sputters, “Please. Please please please—” and lifts his hips invitingly. Hinata can’t help but laugh a little at his eagerness, as he proceeds to pull down the garments, Komaeda’s cock springing free and leaking profusely. He drags the waistband further, under his balls, and Komaeda looks a tad perplexed. “All the way,” he says, and Komaeda lets out another little whine.

“Ahah… Hinata-kun is rendering me shameless…”

“Come on, you were already shameless.”

Komaeda squeezes his eyes closed as Hinata helps him wriggle out of his bottoms from their inconvenient arrangement; one leg, then the other, and Hinata tosses the clothing somewhere else. Hinata is almost surprised that Komaeda didn’t say another thing about him being so careless—instead, he just returns to his previous position hovering just above Hinata’s lap.

With the shorts out of the way, Hinata takes a proper look at Komaeda’s cock. Base nestled in white curls, it’s throbbing, flushed red, darker than Hinata’s ever seen Komaeda’s skin go. It’s already shiny and wet from precome, more of which is dripping from the round head and onto Hinata’s pants. He’s sure if he looks hard enough he could find that part of him that would be abashed at the current scene unfolding on his lap, but it’s suspiciously absent at the moment.

“If Hinata-kun means to embarrass me as thoroughly as possible, take my word that he’s done a great job.”

“Mm. Thank you,” Hinata mulls, not even looking up.

“Really, Hinata-kun, you— _hhhnn._ ” Komaeda hisses as he’s cut off by Hinata grasping his cock from the underside. He decides to quickly glance upward to catch a glimpse of Komaeda’s face: stained a deep pink, sweat dripping from his brow and drool forming on his lip, and when he opens his eyes to make contact with Hinata’s, he can feel the cock twitch in his hand. _Cute,_ he thinks, wondering what other kinds of reactions he could get.

_Having someone else’s dick in your hand and naked on your lap is certainly… different._ Different from what Hinata’s used to, at least. It’s novel, maybe even interesting. He’s no stranger, sure; he’s jacked himself off more times than he could ever count. Komaeda’s dick isn’t too different from his own. But he’s strangely curious. He ghosts his thumb and forefinger along the sensitive skin again, making Komaeda jolt with a whimper. He’s got Komaeda wrapped around his finger now, he muses, recalling earlier in the day when Komaeda had teased him. He finds himself fixing his gaze on Komaeda’s cock, mapping the veins, the wrinkles of skin, the slight curve. _Am I really this fascinated by another man’s dick? Wow_.

_...But it’s not_ just _another man’s dick, it’s Komaeda’s. And here_ I _am..._ He cuts off that line of thinking before it gets… well. He doesn’t want to pursue that right now. As he traces the cock’s length with his finger, and down toward the balls, he can _feel_ Komaeda’s eyes boring into him with impatience.

“I’m sure whatever Hinata-kun is pondering right now is very important… but… Please, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda pleads, “I-I’m, uh,”

Hinata figures Komaeda must be pretty desperate, in the absence of a quip that he figured would go something like _‘does Hinata-kun know what to do down there?’_ —but not enough so that he would fail to cushion the request with whatever little verbiage he tends to say. _I can make him desperate,_ he thinks as he begins to stroke in earnest, and thanks whatever deity must be looking down on him that Komaeda moans _loudly_ before Hinata can find himself mortified at the thing he just thought.

He begins languidly. He still can’t help but…observe (studiously, of course), as the looser foreskin pulls along with his hand’s movements. Komaeda is too, looking down, his forehead almost hitting Hinata’s. When he reaches the head, he lightly twists his grip, then goes back to repeat the motion, with increasing pressure.

“ _Nn…_ ”

The next time he reaches the head, he pulls off a little further. Hinata caresses the darkened head of Komaeda’s cock lightly with the pads of his fingers as more precome emerges from the slit. Hinata smears his palm with the fluid, returning to his full strokes.

“ _Ha…_ ”

He can only hear Komaeda, panting and gasping, as he works to totally unravel the other man with his hand. As he picks up the pace, he feels Komaeda too, who takes hold of Hinata’s shoulder in his single hand. The stump pokes around the other shoulder, struggling to find some kind of purchase as it trembles aimlessly. With a particularly hard tug, the arm hits the top of his shoulder with gentle, but surprising, force, and Komaeda takes the opportunity to wrap the limb toward Hinata’s back. Continuing, unrelenting, the hand on his other shoulder tightens its grip. He’s close, both in state and proximity, his cheek nearly brushing Hinata’s now.

“ _Aa._

Hinata-kun.”

He takes another look at Komaeda, who is looking positively pathetic, even more far gone than a second ago. He is clearly short of breath—Hinata wonders if he could hear how loud his heart must be beating before he writes off the thought as silly. At the same time, despite the deep blush on his face accented by watery eyes, quivering eyebrows, and a drooling lip, he seems to be showing some restraint. _...He’s holding back from finishing,_ Hinata surmises. _He’s a mess._ Is Hinata doing something wrong? _Is he worried about something?_ Then a theory formulates in his mind. _I wonder if..._

“...Come.”

Hinata goes faster, faster, until at his command Komaeda is undone for him with loud whimpers. At his climax, he jolts, leaning forward to bury his face into Hinata’s shoulder, his intact arm fully slung over with hand twitching as he is washed in the sensation, and his nub pulling at Hinata’s sleeve. He continues to stroke Komaeda through his orgasm; long, purposeful strokes, drawing everything out of him.

Looks like his hypothesis was correct.

As Komaeda’s climax reached its end, Hinata supported the increasingly dependent weight leaning against him, slowly laying down Komaeda on the bed as he heaved and panted. _Was his orgasm really that intense from a handjob? Wow. ...Or his stamina is really bad, I guess._

“Ah… aha…” he says between breaths. “Th-thank you.”

“Uh… uh-huh,” he nods, transfixed on Komaeda’s naked body, his chest rising and falling. _He looks good like this,_ Hinata thinks, feeling… satisfied.

Hinata doesn’t know just how much time passed when Komaeda speaks again. “It’s not polite to stare, Hinata-kun… aha.” He slowly rises to sit upright again and looks down. “Oh… I’ve dirtied Hinata-kun’s clothes.”

Hinata looks down too to see that, yes, Komaeda came all over his pants and shirt.

“Oh, uh. It can be washed.”

“Mm.”

Another brief moment of silence passes. Hinata speaks up; he needs to regain the upper hand.

“S-so… you like me that much, huh…?”

“I could say the same to you… Hajime.” Komaeda replies with a smirk.

_Urk._

He doesn’t really have a retort to that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! this comic (nsfw) was a big inspiration: https://twitter.com/a_tayaa_y/status/1333036803595530242  
> this one wasn't as spicy and exciting as my last one perhaps but i enjoyed writing it!


End file.
